


galactic waltz

by fuhllmetal



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, Gender-neutral pronouns for Pidge, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Team Bonding, Waltzing, dance lessons, fancy leotards, hand holding, slightly bullshit alien dances i came up with on the fly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuhllmetal/pseuds/fuhllmetal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>allura wants to teach the paladins to dance. it's a good thing the waltz is a universal constant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	galactic waltz

**Author's Note:**

> i've had a hankering to write some sheith again and the mechanics of how i'm going to continue from my other prominently sheith fic-series-thing ([check that out by the way](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7827547)) are evading me right now, so i decided to go for something short, sweet, and to the point
> 
> i wrote this to eight days a week by the beatles, which when you ignore the gendered language in it is totally an upbeat (for once) sheith song oh my god
> 
> so without further ado, something highly self-indulgent!

Allura insisted that they start preparing for diplomatic galas after the Paladins liberated their first high-profile planet. She, herself, hadn’t danced in ten thousand years, but that didn’t stop her from pulling out all of the stops turning the main hall into a makeshift ballroom. The floor was polished, courtesy of what Pidge dubbed ‘ _Space Roombas,_ ’ and Coran fashioned everyone a pair of personal dancing shoe-socks and rather embarrassing leotards.

“No way am I wearing this,” Lance whined, holding out the blue sheer fabric at arms length as if simply being within breathing distance of it would be like applying hydrochloric acid directly to his skin.

“They’re more efficient for practice!” Coran retorted. He was already decked out in his own purple version, stretching against the wall, and he hooked his leg over the long bar installed on the west wall. “You don’t know what kinds of dances we’re going to be practicing yet, but I can assure you those tight pants may look cool to you, but you won’t look so suave when you have a split right up the back.”

Lance shrieked and instinctively grabbed at the seat of his pants.

“Can we at least get leggings to go with them?” Hunk asked, running the fabric mournfully over his hands. “Or maybe some more padding around our. Precious cargo.”

Coran paused, considering the idea as he put his right leg behind his head. Hunk winced, trying to keep eye contact for the sake of having his question answered, but it was clearly becoming harder and harder for him as Coran leaned more and more into the stretch.

“Fine. I’ll approve it - just a few moments, everyone. Start warming up while I make the alterations.”

 

Coran was back as soon as he promised with the modified leotards. They only provided a smidgen more cover than the original versions, but since it seemed he wasn’t backing down, the Paladins resigned to their fates and went off to change in their rooms.

Keith was the first one back. He was a fast changer, so it didn’t take him long to slip off his regular clothes and shimmy into the leotard, but it certainly wasn’t anything he was used to wearing. The sheer parts of the suit - running all the way up his arms and across the top of his chest, dipping into a V and crossing his shoulders - were a bit itchy, but the opaque parts - taking up all of the non-sheer sections of chest and down to his feet like tights - whispered against his skin like silk. There were little sequin-like dots across the whole thing with white accents at the dips in his figure. Just in case things got a little hairy, he put a hair tie around his wrist, too. He guessed he looked good in the whole get-up; he never really was a good judge of his own fashion sense.

He spied Coran still stretching on the bar at the west wall and Allura tapping away at a panel on the wall. Scratching at the sheer red fabric covering his arms, Keith stiffly walked over to Allura to see what she was up to.

 

“Oh, my! Red really does suit you. Naturally, of course,” Allura said, quirking her lips into a smile when she saw Keith coming. She was wearing a pink version of the same style of leotard - at least no one was left behind. “I was just picking out the music.”

“Right, music would be helpful for dancing,” Keith deadpanned; Allura rolled her eyes.

“Alright, smarty-pants, I’m glad you’re aware. If you’re interested, you can look at the song list.” Allura motioned to the panel and stepped out of the way.

When Keith leaned into the panel, he frowned. It’d been a while since they’d started living in the Castle, and he was naturally good at memorizing things, so he’d picked up how to read Altean quickly enough, but what he was reading still felt like gibberish. It only dawned on him after he spent a solid two minutes squinting at song titles that there was no reason he should be recognizing any of what he was looking at in the first place.

 

“Well?” Allura prompted, bright-eyed.

“Hmm?” Keith looked away from the panel, hand on his chin, and he realized that Allura was trying to gauge his reaction to her choices. “Oh. Uh, those are some really good ones.” _Nice one, Keith._

“You have no idea what any of it says, do you.”

“Nope.”

 

“What are we talking about?” Shiro asked as he entered the hall. He had a hand on his hip as he walked towards the other two, his Galran one, and Keith suppressed a gasp with a deep gulp of air that he felt go all the way down through his chest.

The leotard clung to Shiro like something between a wetsuit and a wet cotton shirt, the sheer black fabric glittering against him like his top half was dipped in a galaxy and came out star-flecked. It added even more definition to his cut figure than his usual muscle shirt, vest, and utility leggings - if that was even possible - and Keith felt his mouth go dry as his eyes roved over the sight before him.

Shiro stopped right next to Keith, looking him over for a moment, and his face gained an unreadable quality. Shiro’s eyes caught especially on Keith’s torso, and he felt his fight-or-flight instinct manifest in the form of ‘ _pose-or-pass-out_.’ Keith wasn’t forced to pick between those two options, fortunately, because Allura started chatting away with Shiro about the leotards and song selections, and before long the rest of the Paladins had gathered in the room.

Keith’s eyes never left Shiro’s body until Coran signaled everyone to look at him, and he felt considerably slimier when his eyes snapped away.

 

As Coran started prattling on about his history with dance and its instruction, Lance was rubbing his hands up and down his arms, closing his body in on itself, and Hunk didn’t look much better. Pidge seemed to be going with the flow, but they would periodically pick at the sequins on their arms, frowning at them. Shiro seemed unbothered and unflappable; Allura was in her element.

“Thank you, Coran, but I’m afraid we must move on to the actual instruction,” Allura interjected before Coran launched into another set of stories from his stint as dance coordinator for the Altean Military Academy Ball. “Now, I’m not sure what kinds of dances you have on Earth, but you’re going to have to learn a wide variety of ones native not only to Altea, but also - for example - the ones native to the planets we liberate if they hold some sort of event in our honor. We’ll start out simple, but some of them do get rather complex.”

“How complex?” Hunk asked, weakly raising his hand.

“That depends. There is one dance in particular that I learned as a young girl with over five hundred different steps for once cycle, but I doubt that we’re going to be worrying about that today. That’s going to be, at the very least, a third session undertaking,” Allura said in what she probably figured was a reassuring tone, but Hunk squeaked in fear all the same.

 

“Will we get to show you some moves of our own, Princess?” Lance sidled up to the princess, all of his earlier trepidation about the situation.

“That depends on if we have time or not, but I would not be opposed to the idea,” Allura said, eyeing him closely. “These ‘ _moves_ ’ are those of the sort you wouldn’t mind doing at a highly sensitive diplomatic meeting where one wrong step could start a war, correct?”

Lance deflated without another word. Keith could have sworn he saw a smirk on Allura’s face, but he didn’t say anything about it.

 

“Now, assuming you’re already warmed up, we’ll start with the most basic dance, one that Alteans have practiced for millennia. I am not entirely sure if it’s still practiced across the universe like it was previously, but since it’s so fundamental and basic a step, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.” Allura motioned for Coran to come towards her to demonstrate. “We will demonstrate first, and after that, you’ll each pair up - I’ll pair up with one of you, I suppose - and practice for yourselves.”

Allura clapped, and a song started playing through the Castle’s intercom system. It was a lilting tune in an instrument Keith couldn’t identify - the closest comparison was a digitized harp - in a strikingly familiar beat. Coran bowed to Allura, and Allura bowed back before placing her right hand in his left. He put his free hand on her hip and hers on his shoulder, and they started stepping in deliberate circles, Coran leading the way.

“Wait, isn’t this just a waltz?” Pidge pushed up their glasses on their nose. Allura looked over her shoulder, a look of confusion on her face.

“Waltz? I suppose, but I would have to see one.”

 

Pidge took Hunk’s arm, the closest to them, and grasped his hand a little too quickly for his liking. They started trying to force him into tight circles, half a waltz Keith supposed, but Hunk was too unsteady on his feet, and the whole operation nearly came crashing down. Shiro caught Pidge as Hunk fell onto them, averting crisis.

“That was the worst waltz I’ve ever seen,” Lance snorted.

“Well, _somebody_ fell on me,” Pidge grumbled, crossing their arms. Hunk scoffed.

“Yeah, and _someone_ just grabbed _someone else_ out of nowhere and started manhandling them! Wonder who it could be!” He crossed his arms as well and looked pointedly away from Pidge, nose in the air.

“It seems we have a long way to go,” Allura sighed, hanging her head. Coran broke their hands apart and gently patted her on the shoulder.

 

After demonstrating the steps in a painstakingly slow manner, Allura and Coran finally finished and broke everyone up into groups based on height.

“Now, with a, what did you call it? A waltz?” Allura asked; Pidge nodded. “Right. With a waltz the Altean way, it is considered best form to have a slight height difference between partners - usually to designate who leads and who follows - but not too large a difference.” She paused to look pointedly at Pidge and Hunk, the latter of the two flushing.

“Good thing I ordered you all by height, eh?” Coran elbowed Lance playfully in the shoulder. “Right then, Number One, you’re with…Number Four. Number Two, with Number Three.”

“Pidge, you’re with me,” Allura said as she shrunk herself to a more appropriate height. Keith blinked; he’d never get used to that.

 

“Wait, why me and Keith? Shouldn’t I be with Lance and Keith with Hunk?” Shiro piped up.

“Well, you see, you and Keith are what is considered the optimal height difference for this dance, and while Lance and Hunk are less than that distance apart, for practice purposes, we’re sorting you like this for now. Don’t worry - you’ll all dance with each other eventually!” Coran replied.

“Does that mean I’ll have to dance with Keith?” Lance spat Keith’s name like it was poison, and Keith let all of the air leave his lungs, but he didn’t engage the obvious taunt.  
No one did, actually. They’d gotten into a rhythm with Lance’s attempts at instigation over time.

 

Keith didn’t realize he was staring into space until Shiro tapped on his shoulder. He half-jumped out of his own skin at the touch, and he didn’t relax when he met Shiro’s eyes. Sure, he wasn’t being ambushed with intent to kill, but he sure was being accosted with complications of an internal nature.

He sounded like a textbook; he needed to quit reading so many Altean manuals.

“You ready, bud?” Shiro asked, a light note in his tone that ran through Keith’s body bone-deep, and Keith wanted nothing more than to bolt.

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

Shiro snorted, shaking his head, and he offered his left hand for Keith to take. Keith stared at it with apprehensive eyes. He knew he should take it, but the prospect of closing the distance seemed like a bit too much for him to take at the moment.

It went from ‘ _a bit too much_ ’ to ‘ _past his physical limits_ ’ when Shiro took his right hand for him, holding it for a moment with an unsure look on his face. Keith knew he was already pinking around the ears. The gentle pink erupted into a full-blown blaze when Shiro lifted Keith’s hand to his mouth, brushing it gently against his lips, and then moved their still-intertwined hands parallel to their bodies like Allura and Coran had demonstrated. Shiro never broke eye contact through the whole thing, and Keith both withered and expanded at the same time underneath his gaze.

He supposed ‘ _starstruck_ ’ was the right word for how he was feeling, but that just made him feel like a pre-teen riding the euphoric rush of meeting their favorite rockstar. Shiro was a whole different league of star, and he was more struck than any thirteen year old could ever imagine, and that terrified him.

 

Keith’s brain struggled to keep up as Shiro put a hand on Keith’s waist, his Galran one, and it ghosted across the barely-clothed skin there. Keith could sense Shiro’s hesitation to touch him with his prosthetic - a hesitation that pervaded every one of their interactions as of late - and he took a chance leaning into the touch in the same movement as the placement of his left hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro’s shoulder tensed underneath of his light grasp, but he didn’t pull away. There was something behind his eyes, Keith decided as the thought hit him, and it was just scratching the surface of his expression, but it wasn’t quite ready to come out yet.

They waited until the timing was right for them to start moving, and soon enough they were gliding across the floor in familiar steps. The Garrison still trained all of its cadets in basic ballroom dancing for formal military balls and the like, and even though most of the specifics had faded, the bare-bones muscle memory remained for both of them.

 

Keith found himself shifting his view slightly below Shiro’s gaze, unconsciously avoiding it, and his eyes became very familiar with the shape and stretch of Shiro’s scar. Feeling creepy again, he shifted it lower to Shiro’s nose. Keith pointedly avoided looking any farther down.

Their feet collided a few times, but they were easily corrected mistakes, and quickly they fell into a mutual rhythm fueled by the harp bouncing off of the walls of the grand room. The longer it went on, the more used to the feeling of Shiro’s fingers entangled with his own he became, and he almost got complacent to it.

He got so complacent that over time they drifted closer and closer to each other, and Keith was jolted back from the vague, empty thought-space his mind drifted to when their chests bumped lightly. He flushed on realization, eyes instinctually darting up to meet Shiro’s - big mistake.

 

Shiro was grinning softly down at Keith, his face the most relaxed Keith had seen it in ages, and a sort of magnetism radiated from his entire body, urging Keith closer and closer. He resisted; now wasn’t the time for this, after all, but that didn’t erase the feeling burning deep in the pit of his chest.

They bumped again, firmer this time, and Keith’s breath left him all in one rush. He froze. Shiro copied that. The song was long over, and the eyes of the rest of the room were trained very steadily on the lack of space between the two and the flush burning across Keith’s entire body.

The only good thing about the leotards was the sheer red material obscured how the blush spread all the way down Keith’s neck and across his chest.

 

Shiro broke them apart, a sheepish laugh bubbling up past his lips, and Keith wanted nothing more than to crawl up in a hole and never emerge, as he didn’t want to see the light of the Castle’s artificial lamps again until everyone in the vicinity completely forgot about this incident. He was never living this down, though, meaning he would be setting up shop in his quarters for good.

 

“Good job, Paladins. A few critiques - Lance, you need to slow down your lead. You don’t want to drag your partner all over the floor. Hunk, you need to pick up your pace and stop dragging your heels. Pidge, you’re a bit aggressive, especially since you’re not the lead.” Coran listed his points off on his fingers. “Oh! And Shiro, Keith - overall, you were very in-tune for relative beginners, but! While your introduction to the dance was… _respectful_ , bowing is more appropriate when engaging with diplomats in the future.”

This time, Shiro was the one that flushed deeply. He scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding everyone’s eyes and muttering something under his breath, and Keith kicked himself for finding it cute. Thankfully no one pressed the matter any further.

 

“So, when are we getting to something less stuffy?” Lance said, running his thumb over his nails. “Preferably something with a beats-per-minute higher than a wedding march.”

Allura smiled devilishly. She walked over to the song list, scrolled through the panel’s options for a few moments, and then she settled on something with a decisive tap. A bright swing-esque dance came on, and Coran’s features lit up.

“Ah! A Yurtipian Swing! Perfect choice, Princess!” he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Why, I haven’t done this one in ages.”

“Well, you know me,” Allura said, winking. “This is decidedly ‘ _less stuffy_ ,’ but since I wasn’t anticipating us getting any more complicated than variations of a waltz today, we’re taking it up a notch early. Sound good?”

Lance nodded vigorously; Hunk looked equally as out of his element as before, if not a little brighter, while Pidge just raised an eyebrow.  
Keith exchanged glances with Shiro, who just shrugged with a passive grin, mouthing ‘ _what could go wrong_.’

* * *

  
Everything could go wrong. While Earth swing music implied swinging movements restrained to an individual’s own body - with the occasional dip or slide against a partner - whatever the Yurtipians called a swing dance was a completely different beast.

It was meant to be done in groups of three, so one person got to take a breather while the other six split off into two separate triangles and began a complicated set of swinging motions intertwined with the other two people flanking them. From an outsider’s perspective, the dance done properly looked like an intricate puzzle of limbs working together like a well-oiled machine, sliding with little-to-no actual skin contact. From the inside, it looked like a flurry of arms and legs, other people’s hair in your mouth, and fingers just barely missing your eyes.

That perspective might have been biased by all of their relative lack of experience, but the point still stands.

 

Keith sat on the floor, breathing heavily as he watched Shiro, Hunk, and Allura all hit each other in the face at the same exact time. At least they were coordinated, he thought ruefully, as he shifted his gaze over to the doomed set of Lance, Pidge, and Coran. They were all off time, Coran the only one even slightly on beat, and Pidge was cheating the system of the dance by just ducking under all of Lance and Coran’s arm movements.

“Alright, everyone, take five!” Allura called out, cradling her nose and stepping out of the triangle before any more damage could be caused. She immediately left the room, probably for the infirmary, sighing all the way.

“Thanks, Lance - if it wasn’t for your big mouth, we would have just been going in slow circles right now with no injuries,” Pidge grumbled, crossing their arms. Lance scoffed.

“You can’t complain! You kept cheating by just standing there and dodging me and Coran that whole last set. I had to take the full force of Hunk’s headband-thing slapping me across the face at high speeds earlier. That shit hurt like no rug burn can compare, man,” he retorted, patting his cheek.

Hunk picked up the offending headband off the ground where he threw it after Lance’s run in with it. He put it back on, but he frowned when it sat strangely in his sweat-soaked hair.

 

“I know the Princess said to just ‘take five,’ but I think you all have done enough work for today. You’re dismissed,” Coran ordered as he stretched against the wall again.

“Can we do some Earth dances next time, maybe?” Lance suggested. “I had my phone with some dance-worthy music on it with me when we left Earth, so I have the means.”

“Take it up with the Princess, but I can’t see why not.”

 

Lance left the room, pumping his fist in triumph, and Hunk and Pidge followed behind him until all three were out of sight and their voices stopped echoing down the hall. Keith started for the exit and made it out, but Shiro stopped them once they were alone in the corridor.

“What is it?” Keith asked, apprehensive.

“I, well. I don’t really know how to put this,” Shiro started, running a hand through his hair and avoiding Keith’s eyes, “but did you feel…I dunno, whatever that was? Earlier?”

“Lance’s lanky ass arms elbowing me in the stomach? Definitely,” Keith replied, knowing that he was deflecting, and Shiro fixed him with a look. He sighed.

 

“Before the elbowing. During the space-waltz-dance.” Keith sucked in a breath and tried to mask it by breathing out as fast as possible, but it just came out as a soft wheeze. Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed. “You okay?”

“You could say that, technically,” Keith grumbled. “About that though - depends on what you mean but ‘ _whatever that was_.’ I felt a…few different things.” He cut his eyes to the floor, but their aversion was foiled when Shiro reached for his right hand again.

He lifted their hands up to their former position, parallel to their shoulders, and squeezed ever so slightly. Keith felt his other hand creep up his waist and instinctively his own right hand placed itself on Shiro’s shoulder. They were back in waltz position, but there was no music or teammates or obligations surrounding them this time. They were in this entirely voluntarily.

 

Keith shuddered out his next breath, tentatively meeting Shiro’s eyes, and was dazzled by the look he received. Shiro was fixed so intently on his face, his gaze darting all around - it especially liked to ghost across Keith’s lips - before settling back into tense eye contact.

Shiro’s grey eyes reflected the luminescence of the dimly lit hallway, and stark shadows were cast across his cheekbones and jaw. His white forelock hung just out of the way of his vision, and when Keith searched for it, he found a flush hiding beneath the scar across the bridge of Shiro’s nose and the apples of his cheeks. It hit him that it was likely hidden there all along.

 

“I’m about to take a page out of your book and do something impulsive,” Shiro whispered, the words fluttering against Keith’s skin, “so forgive me if I was too bold.”

 

Shiro leaned in, closing the infinitesimally small distance between them, and pressed his lips to Keith’s with all of the controlled power of every other movement he made. Keith couldn’t have prepared for this if you told him a year in advance. His brain short circuited, but Shiro’s own detectable panic jerked him back into his own body, and Keith pressed back.

The kiss was clumsy at first, oddly placed and static, but Shiro snaked the hand on Keith’s hip around to the small of his back and Keith slid his own hand up to cup Shiro’s cheek. With a better angle, Shiro tilted his head, and they kissed like that for as long as either of them could stand.

They broke apart with a gasp from both of them, Keith disguising the way his breath threatened to come in pants, but their faces were still mere inches apart. A surge of confidence overtook Keith.

 

He reclaimed Shiro’s lips, more aggressive this time, and the kiss gradually opened up more and more until Shiro’s fingers were clamped to Keith’s and they were breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. Their teeth clacked once, Shiro hissing at the sensation. Keith made up for it by pushing one final surge into the kiss before finally separating them.

A faint trail of spit connected their mouths, similar to the invisible thread linking their eyes when they made eye contact, and Shiro grinned. It was infectious, and soon Keith was smiling an equally as goofy smile back, and then they were giggling and laughing, and then leaning against each other for support, and Keith finally felt himself slip completely.

 

“I’ve gotta thank Coran for these leotards,” Shiro murmured once the laughs had subsided and they had sunk to the floor. Their hands were still joined, even if Keith’s was starting to get embarrassingly sweaty.

“Huh?” Keith said, quirking an eyebrow.

“This sounds ridiculous, but when I walked into the room for the first time and saw you in that little red thing, I…” Shiro paused. “Let’s just say red suits all of your assets very, _very_ well, and without it spurring me on, I would still be admiring them from afar.”

“My ‘ _assets_ ’? Who are you, Lance?” Keith choked on the last word, breaking out into a shorter fit of laughter again. Shiro had a lazy smile on his face, but he was clearly dead serious, and Keith stopped laughing in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

 

They were silent for a beat. Keith had to process this; first of all, the assets comment, now that it was confirmed completely genuine, was shocking enough on its own. Now that it had a ‘ _admiring from afar_ ’ tacked onto it, Shiro’s looks were simultaneously complete and absolutely no sense.

If anyone had ‘ _assets_ ,’ it was Shiro, and that was a fact. He shouldn’t even bother trying to take inventory on someone else’s when he already had enough for himself, and Keith felt a flush creep over his ears and neck again at the idea of Shiro examining him that closely.

 

“You do realize you just said all of that out loud, right?” Shiro whispered, his free hand over his mouth. Keith’s eyes flew open wide and his fingers stuttered against Shiro’s in their grasp, but Shiro didn’t let go. “Thanks, though. Never thought I’d get a compliment from you with a corporate theme.”

“I really hadn’t meant for it to come out like that,” Keith sighed, resigned to his inability to weasel his way out of this one.

“Don’t worry about it; it was cute.” Shiro grinned again. It was brighter than the lights in the ceiling.

 

“Black really suits you, too.” The words were tumbling out of Keith’s mouth before he could stop them - probably for the better - and what he said couldn’t be any more of an understatement, but Shiro’s grin transformed into a beam regardless. Keith was going to lose his vision at this rate.

“I’m glad you think so,” Shiro murmured, leaning in to capture Keith’s lips again, this time with their clasped hands stuck between their chests.

 

Keith would have to thank whatever stuffy Altean invented the space-waltz later.

**Author's Note:**

> depending on the response and if i can figure out any way to continue this and keep it interesting at the same time, i might add another chapter or make this a series, but we'll see (no promises)
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! i greatly appreciate any kudos/comments you have to spare!!


End file.
